


Together

by JaeLynnWrites



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Character Death Fix, Haunting, Heavy Angst, Loss, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-08 19:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18901222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaeLynnWrites/pseuds/JaeLynnWrites
Summary: Post 8x6 fix it fic.  It's angsty and if you're a Jon fan - he's gonna pay for what he's done.  Heavy on the angst.





	1. Chapter 1

Together

He woke up from the same dream again, covered in sweat from head to foot.  It was every night it seemed.  The dream always started the same – he would kiss her and then bury his dagger with the image of her angelic face starring up at him beckoning him with a silent “why?”  And then he would wake up.

“If you need to sleep King Crow, I can help,” Tormund told him on multiple occasions.

“I don’t deserve it.  I deserve to live a sleepless and dreadful existence after what I did to her,” Jon said.

“Eventually you’ll have to forgive yourself,” Tormund replied. 

Jon just shook his head.  She would haunt him for the rest of his days and he somehow wanted her to, so he could keep the image of her face in his memory forever.  If he forgot what she looked like it would be worse.  He just wished his memory of her was of a happier time – at the waterfall, on the boat north, or in his chambers at Winterfell before it had all gone to hell.

Jon’s days were monotonous – chopping firewood, hunting, teaching the children how to shoot a bow.  Everyday was the same; yet, every night the dream would return.  He deserved the anguish – he knew it.  This was to be his punishment – an eternity of dreaming about her face that would haunt him until the end of his days.  He didn’t know it could get worse until he started seeing her during the day. The first time was near the creek with Ghost.  His ear plucked up and he looked across the water and saw a flash of platinum blonde hair.  He raced through the freezing water like an idiot looking for her only to be let down.  He was starting to hallucinate now.  He wasn’t even safe from his guilt during the day.  He thought she was there at least a dozen other times, but every time he would run towards her there was nothing.  It was torture and he deserved it.

He returned to his rock by the stream after chasing nothing again and whittled a piece of wood into what was supposed to be a horse.  The blade slipped and drew blood from his finger and for a moment he thought about sinking that blade deep into his wrist to end this agony and see his beloved Dany once more.  But maybe even in the afterlife that he didn’t believe in anyways she would still turn from him – why wouldn’t she?  He had betrayed her in the worst way.  Used her love for him against her like a bloody coward.  He pressed the tip of the blade into a vein on his wrist and wished himself dead again.  Just as a drop of blood began to form, Ghost jumped up and interrupted his only form of relief.

“Dany?” he whispered.  It’s not her.  Stop fooling yourself.  He wiped the blood from his wrist and walked back to the village.

Jon rested in his bed and closed his eyes even though he knew his dreams would turn into nightmares.  He would kill himself tomorrow for he couldn’t take another night of seeing her face looking up at him. 

“Jon,” someone whispered.  It was a dream; she’s not here.

“Jon Snow,” the voice said again.  Make it stop.

“Dany,” he whispered still deep within this dream.  “I’m so sorry.  Forgive me, please.”

“There’s much to forgive, Jon,” the voice said. 

Jon shifted and woke to the sound of his tent flap closing.  His breathing came in heavy pants and sweat poured from his brow.  He deserves this he thought to himself.

The next night he heard her voice again, and the next night as well.  On the third night he woke suddenly and saw her standing at the opening of his tent.

“Dany, wait!” he said even though he was probably talking to nothing.  The woman in front of him stopped.  Was she real? Was he still dreaming?  Would he wake from this and feel empty again?

“How are you here?” he asked.

She faced him, and he was taken aback at seeing her face again.  It seemed so real.  Her hair was loose around her face and not braided like normal, and she wore a pale blue dressing gown with a heavy blue overcoat.  Her mother’s ring still adorned her delicate hand.  She stepped towards him and he immediately shot up from the bed to a seated position.

“Dany?” he said.

“Sssshhh.”

“How are you here?” he asked again as she continued moving towards him. “If this is a dream, don’t wake me.  I can’t bare this.”

“Why, Jon?” she asked. “I warned you what would happen to us.  I told you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he pleaded.

She was next to him now.  Close enough that he could touch her if he had the nerve to just reach out. 

“You should see,” she said, taking off her heavy overcoat.  “You should see what you did to me.” She slid her dressing gown off her shoulders and revealed his greatest betrayal to him – the scar was there, and it looked just like his.

He reached out to hold her, but she stepped back and put her gown back over her shoulders. 

“I’m sorry,” he cried.

“Why, Jon?”

“I thought…I didn’t, I was scared of what you’d become, what you might do,” he said.

“Did you ever love me at all?” she asked.

“I did.  I do, I never stopped,” he said.

“Can you forgive me for what I did in King’s Landing?” she asked. 

“I never held that against, you know that.  Can you forgive me?  Please tell me you can forgive me?” he begged while trying to reach for her as she stepped out of his reach.

“I don’t know, Jon.  I know that I loved you once and you used it against me.  How do I forgive you for that?  I’ve been betrayed before, but yours hurt the most and cost me the most,” she said.  Before Jon could say another word, she was gone.  He still didn’t know if he was dreaming or if he was awake in his own personal hell of not being able to touch the woman he loves, he just hoped she would return to him again.

***

“Dany,” he gasped out as a sprung up from his deep sleep.  His dreams had changed from nightmares into her standing in front of him and baring the wound he had given her.  He knew the mark by heart now, just under her left breast where he used to lay his head while she would run her fingers through his hair. 

He dressed and went through his monotonous tasks of the day with Ghost by his side.  She hadn’t appeared to him in several days and he had convinced himself that he was imagining everything, but at least the image he was left with wasn’t her staring up at him with those lifeless blue eyes of hers.  At least he was spared that hell for the time being but looking at her wound was almost as terrible. He did that to her and he regretted it the moment the blade pierced her perfect skin.  He should have taken her away from there, locked her in a room and reasoned with her, anything would have been better than what he had done.

He was covered by the furs on his bed and drifted between sleep and consciousness until he could feel her presence there. She was next to him, close enough that he could smell the scent of lavender emanating from her skin – was she real? Please be real. He blinked and reached out quickly so she couldn’t escape his grasp or run away.  Her hand was cold, but it felt so real to him.  He sat up in the bed and pulled her hand to his lips. 

“Are you real?” he asked.  “Tell me this is real,” he said with his lips against the back of her hand.

She pulled her hand away from him.

“Of course, I’m real, as real as you are anyway,” she said.

“How?”

“After…Drogon flew to Volantis and gave me over to the red priestesses,” she explained.

Jon slipped out of his bed and crawled on his knees, reaching for her.

“Please, forgive me, Dany,” he begged.

“I don’t know that I can, Jon,” she said.  “You took everything from me.”

He hung his head and sobbed in front of her.

“How could I ever trust you again?” she asked.

“Stay with me.  Stay here with me, let me prove it to you.”

“Like how you proved it to me before?” she chided.

“Let me show you, please?” he begged, grabbing onto her hips and holding her to him.  Her hands immediately went in his hair and he stayed there for what felt like hours.

“Stand up, Jon Snow,” she commanded.

He stood before her in nothing more than his breeches.  He was still ashamed of his scars, but he never minded her touching them or resting her head over them. It was comforting. 

“You should know, when you killed me,” she started, and he recoiled at the words.  “I was carrying our child.  A little girl.” Jon fell to his knees.  “She never lived, but she was beautiful, dark hair like yours…”

“No, no, don’t,” Jon sunk further into the floor, hands covering his face.  “Why would you tell me this, just let me die.  I can’t live with this.”

“But you must live with it.  Only death pays for life – and I’m here because of her.  Why should I have to bare this alone?” she said.

Jon crawled to where is sword and dagger were hung over the chair, trying to grab for one of them as his hands shook violently.  What had he done?

“Let me end it now,” he said.  “I can’t live with this, I can’t.”

Her hand was on his and their connection immediately calmed him.

“We must live with this, together,” she said. 

He looked up at her and stood.

“Do you mean that?” he asked.

“I do.  Never betray me again, or I won’t tell Drogon to let you go next time,” she said.

“What? It was you?” he asked.

“I knew you didn’t mean it or want to do it – you thought it was the only way…it wasn’t.  We were both used and manipulated by Tyrion and Bran.  We just failed to realize it until it was too late,” she explained. 

He reached a hand out to cup her cheek and as soon as he made contact he felt the demon in him disappear.  He was no longer broken, no longer sad, no longer lost.  He pulled her to him and crushed his lips to hers as her hands wound around his neck and into his hair.  And they were like they were before – on the boat, in his room at Winterfell, at the waterfall.  Together, broken, two halves that fit perfectly, together.


	2. Just Like His

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany's POV - right after resurrection and her POV of the events in Chapter 1.  
> It's dialogue heavy, but nobody had actual conversations in season 8 that weren't cut off, so enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER - mother losing her child

Just Like His

The cold seeped into her bones.  Where had Drogon taken her? She felt around with her hands – cold, stone.  Deep breaths – where am I? The last thing she remembered was Jon, her Jon, betraying her.  She reached for the spot where he had sunk his dagger but could only feel the hole it had torn through her leathers.  And she remembered what she never got a chance to tell him.  Her hands went to her womb, but the bump that had formed, the bump she had hidden since Winterfell was gone.  She shot up and let out a hoarse cry when all the blood on the stone table came into focus.  Where was she?  She looked around and saw only stone walls and lit braziers.  Where was her baby?  Her and Jon’s baby?

The door creaked open and a dark haired woman in a red dress walked towards her. 

“Where am I?” Dany asked.

“Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, first of her name – welcome to Volantis.  We’ve been waiting for you,” the woman said.

Dany’s hands went to her belly and tears fell from her eyes.

“My baby?” she asked.

“Did not live, my queen.  I’m sorry.  Only death can pay for life as you know.  She did not suffer,” the woman replied.

Dany cried.  She cried more than she’d cried for Rhaego, for Drogo, for Viserion, for Missandei, Rhaegal, more than she had cried for any of them.

“She?”

“Would you like to see her?” the woman asked.

She never got to see Rhaego; she would not miss the chance to see her daughter, she would look upon her daughter’s face and remember what Jon had taken from her.

“I’m Kinvara.  I’m here to help,” she said, and took Dany’s hand to lead her out to an adjacent room where her daughter was wrapped in red blankets.  Dany could see the little black curls peeking out at the top.  She looked at her through the tears, looked at her perfect little face.  What have you done, Jon? What did you do to us? She picked her up and cradled her to her chest.  Her daughter was as light as a raven’s feather, but you could still make out every feature – her nose – just like his, her lips – just like hers.  She collapsed to the ground and held her baby girl close and wished she had died along with her.

Dany said one last goodbye to her daughter and left the room.  Kinvara greeted her outside and handed her fresh clothes and wine to drink. 

“Why didn’t you let me die with her?” Dany asked.

“Your purpose has yet to be fulfilled,” Kinvara replied.

“I thought I was fulfilling my purpose before and I was murdered for it,” said Dany.

“Jon Snow was misguided,” Kinvara reasoned.

“Misguided? I was defenseless and vulnerable, and he killed me,” said Dany.

“It was part of his plan,” said Kinvara.

“Part of whose plan?” Dany questioned.

“The king and his hand,” she replied.

“Jon usurped me after all and took it for himself,” Dany said.

“Not Jon Snow, my queen.  The three eyed raven, Brandon Stark and Tyrion Lannister.  Brandon Stark is the King of Westeros and Tyrion Lannister is his hand,” said Kinvara.

“Where is Jon?”

“He was exiled to the wall.  Greyworm and Yara Greyjoy were loyal to you until the very end nd asked for his execution, but with Bran as king…”

“I see…they spared him,” Dany said.

“You were both pawns in the great game,” said Kinvara.

“How is that possible?” asked Dany.

“The three eyed raven knew what had to happen for you to raze King’s Landing – he let it happen.  And Tyrion put the thought of killing you in Jon’s head – he thought he was saving you from yourself.”

“What of Drogon?” asked Dany.

“He is nearby,” she responded.

“What am I to do?  My whole body wants revenge against them all – Jon, Bran, Tyrion.  All of them. Is that my purpose now?  Revenge?” asked Dany.

“Find Jon.  Find your other half – the answer lies with him,” she said.

Dany took a deep breath and felt the rage swirl up through her neck.  She wanted to burn him, make him pay for what he did.  She was seething with anger until Kinvara put her hand atop hers.

“It is not Jon who deserves your wrath.  Yes, he wronged you and it cost you dearly, but both of you were being used.”

“Has he thought about me at all?  Do you know?” asked Dany.

“Every minute of every day you are in his mind.  You haunt his mind when he sleeps.”  Dany cried at the thought of her Jon suffering, why should she feel any sorrow for him.  “He’s a broken man, my queen.  He will never love another, he will never take a wife, father children.  He is consumed with guilt,” she said.

“Good.”  She never told him about the child they had created that she thought she’d never have, fearing that he would want her to sit out in the battle, think her useless.  She wouldn’t let Drogon go out there alone.  And then he pushed her away, stopped talking to her after finding out they were related.  To her, it was nothing, but it apparently was something he couldn’t get past.  Had he only talked to her about it.  She didn’t want to trap him, so she kept it to herself and clung to her child, her only hope, when she was consumed with grief, for she got no comfort from him.

“Go to him, see for yourself how grief stricken he is,” said Kinvara.

“He should be.  All he had to do was talk to me and he chose to kill me instead,” snapped Dany.

“It was all part of their plan.  The both of you are no longer in his sights. Your resurrections have blinded him to your whereabouts and to your minds. He can find Drogon, so you must be careful.”

“He let me kill thousands of innocent people?” asked Dany.

“He did.”

Dany hung her head in shame.  She should have been stronger, should have made different choices, was she ever in control?

“There is a ship leaving for White Harbor in two days.  If you use Drogon, he will see you.  Stay hidden conceal your hair, don’t stay in one place too long,” she instructed.  “I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”

Two days had past and she found herself on the ship heading for Westeros – the land that taken everything from her.  It would be about a week before she would land at White Harbor and her mind was flooded with uncertainty.  What would she say to him? How could she find it within herself to forgive him?  She loved him.  She’d be lying to herself if she said otherwise.  She loved him more than she had ever loved any other man and he used that against her. Her wound would pulse when she thought of it.  And when she thought of their daughter, she wanted nothing more than to kill him.

Dany traveled with a small caravan of merchants heading north and kept to herself as not to draw attention.  She had helped in saving these people and they didn’t even know it.  She will always be remembered as the Mad Targaryen Queen – and she deserved that moniker - but there had to be some goodness left in her.  Why had the Lord of Light allowed her return?  Was it to exact her revenge? Right the wrongs of her past?

The left turn off the Kingsroad to Winterfell was tempting.  Paying Sansa Stark a visit would likely draw attention to her presence. She thought Dany had died weeks ago.  She decided, however, to deal with her later.  The caravan split off and the remainder went towards Last Hearth.  Once they reached their turn off, she would continue north alone.  The wine merchant urged her to go with them, claiming that the real north was no place for a lady.

“I have unfinished business,” is all she would say.

She arrived at Castle Black days later with a flagon of water, a flagon of wine as a parting gift, her remaining food, the dragon glass dagger Jon had given her that she kept tucked against her leg, and the horse she purchased in White Harbor.  It was abandoned.  She pushed the doors open and walked her horse inside the gates.  She would stay the night under a roof before she began her journey past the wall. 

In the morning she began her trek north of the wall to find Jon.  Still unsure of what to say to him.  She rode for three days until she came across a cabin that looked to be uninhabited.  With the dagger in her hand, she knocked on the door – no answer.  That’s where she would remain until she was able to locate Jon.  It was impossible to know exactly where he was.  Kinvara had only said he was north Craster’s Keep in the Haunted Forest – which spanned for miles.  Dany waited for days and finally saw smoke not far from the cabin.  She went on foot until she came upon a stream.  The trees provided cover as she sidled near the shoreline, and that’s when she saw him.

“Jon,” she said in barely a whisper, but Ghost had picked it up somehow and alerted Jon.  She ducked behind a large tree and hoped he hadn’t seen her.  She wasn’t ready to face him…not yet.

She only caught a glimpse of his face which looked somber.  His hair was down which she always loved when they were together at night.  She would run her fingers through it while his head rested over her heart. 

Everyday she watched him and everyday he called for her when leaves would rustle, or tree branches would crunch underfoot.  The desperation on his face made her want to run to him and throw herself into his embrace, but then she would remember what he’d done, and her blood would get hot and course through her veins like dragon fire. 

Dany followed him to his tent one evening.  She thought maybe he would move on and find a lover, have children, but he remained isolated, even away from the rest of the wildling village.

She snuck into his tent that evening, ready to reveal herself to him, maybe kill him.  She had her dragon glass dagger clutched in her hand as she stood at the opening of his tent. 

“Jon.”

He stirred.

“Jon Snow.”

“Dany,” he whispered half asleep.  “I’m so sorry.  Forgive me, please,” he said.

“There’s much to forgive, Jon,” she said.

Jon started to wake, and she left quickly - not quite ready to face him.  She ran back to her cabin and sobbed, remembering the face of their little girl. The little girl that he took away from her because he was too easily manipulated. How can I ever forgive that?

She visited his tent the next night, and the next.  She watched him sleep and toss and turn, occasionally hearing her name.  She turned to leave on the third night.

“Dany, wait,” he said int hat voice that always made her melt.  He always called her Dany, even right up until the end.  “How are you here?”

This was it.  She turned to face him.  His eyes locked with hers and she could feel the hurt emanating from him as she stepped a little closer.

“Dany,” he said.

‘Sssshhh.”

“How are you here?” he asked.

She stepped closer.

“If this is a dream, don’t wake me.  I can’t bare this.”

“Why, Jon?  I warned you what would happen to us.  I told you.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry,” he cried.  She clutched the dagger at her side.  She was almost close enough that she could strike.

“You should see,” she said, shrugging off her heavy overcoat.  “You should see what you did to me.”  She pulled the top of her dressing gown past her breasts and far enough down that he could see the scar he left.  The scar she would always carry.  Jon shuddered when he saw it.

“I’m sorry,” he cried as she pulled the gown back up to cover herself.

“Why, Jon?”

“I thought…I didn’t, I was scared of what you’d become, what you might do,” he said.

“Did you ever love me at all?” she asked.  She had the dagger ready to strike and it all hinged on his answer.

“I did…I do, I never stopped,” he said. Her grip loosened.

“Can you forgive me for what I did in King’s Landing?” she asked.  The atrocities she had committed were inexcusable, even if she had been used for someone else’s plan, she should have been stronger.

“I never held that against you, you know that.  Can you forgive me?  Please tell me you can forgive me?” he begged and reached for her.  She stepped back before he could touch her.  If she let him touch her, she would forgive him and never leave this tent.

“I don’t know, Jon.  I know that I loved you once and you used it against me.  How do I forgive you for that?  I’ve been betrayed before, but yours hurt the most and cost me the most,” she said. She ran then, as fast as she could, back to her cabin.  Just seeing him there in misery broke her.  She was going to kill him for what he did, but she couldn’t now.  She loved him still, even after everything.

Dany stayed away for days contemplating what to do next.  Leave him forever, seek her revenge, or stay with him here.  Revenge it would be; it’s the only thing that could slake her thirst.  Revenge against all who had wronged her.  Jon was already suffering and killing him would be a gift.  She would see Jon Snow one more time and leave him forever. 

She snuck into his tent again and stood at his bedside.  He was shirtless beneath the furs and she fondly remembered resting her head on top of his beating heart.  It had still pained him after all this time, but he told her when she was with him it soothed his pain.  Dany was lost in her head before she realized he had sat up and grabbed her hand, kissing it on both sides.

“Are you real?” he asked.  “Tell me this is real.”

She pulled her hand away and looked down at his head full of curls.  Just like hers.

“Of course, I’m real.  As real as you are anyway.”

“How?”

“After…Drogon flew to Volantis and gave me over to the red priests.”

Before she could continue, he was on his knees in front of her. 

“Please, forgive me, Dany,” he begged.

“I don’t know that I can, Jon.  You took everything from me.”  She wanted so badly to comfort him as he sobbed in front of her.  “How could I ever trust you again?”

“Stay with me.  Stay here with me, let me prove it to you.”

“Like how you proved it to me before?”

She let him hold onto her while he sobbed and tried to tear herself away from him. This was the last she would see of him, just walk away now.  She would leave him now to seek revenge against Bran, Tyrion, Jon’s sister whose treachery started this whole spiral of events.  Everyone that had wronged her.  Just before she was to pull away, she put her hands in his hair and ran her fingers through it – just like hers. 

“Stand up, Jon Snow,” she commanded. 

He wiped his eyes and stood before her.  She wanted to stay with him, she did.  But he had to know her pain and suffer it with her if they would ever have a future.

“You should know, when you killed me,” she started, and Jon flinched when she said the word, “I was carrying our child.  A little girl.” The color drained from his face and he collapsed to the floor in front of her, shaking.  “She never lived, but she was beautiful, dark hair like yours…” she said before tears streamed down her face.

Jon just sat there, sinking further and further into the floor.  “No, no, don’t.  Why would you tell me this, just let me die. I can’t live with this.”

“But you must live with it.  Only death pays for life – and I’m here because of her.  Why should I have to bare this alone?” she asked.

She stood silent as Jon crawled to the chair where his sword and dagger were.  He was shaking so violently that he couldn’t grab the hilt to unsheathe either of them.

“Let me end it now.  I can’t live with this, I can’t,” he cried.

Dany put her hand on top of his and he immediately settled.  She looked in his eyes and saw it then – he loved her, he truly did, and he would have loved their daughter.

“We must live with this, together,” she said.

“Do you mean that?” he asked as he stood up.

“I do.  Never betray me again, or I won’t tell Drogon to let you go next time.”

“What? It was you?” he asked.

“I knew you didn’t mean it or want to do it – you thought it was the only way…it wasn’t. We were both used and manipulated by Tyrion and Bran.  We just failed to realize it until it was too late,” she explained. 

She felt his hand on her cheek – how she missed his gentle touches.  She lost herself in him when he kissed her as she wound her hands around his neck and threaded her fingers into his hair.  She pulled away and could see the relief in his eyes.

“We need to talk about your brother.”

 

 


End file.
